


In The Beginning part 2

by Sandboy28



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Comfort, Hurt, hungry boys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-03
Updated: 2014-09-03
Packaged: 2018-02-16 01:11:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2250279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sandboy28/pseuds/Sandboy28
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock finds a new home and a care taker.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In The Beginning part 2

In The Beginning  
part 2  
The door of Sherlock’s hospital room swung open and Lestrade pushed in, carrying two shopping bags, one from Harrods’s and one from Belstaff. Sherlock was sitting on the edge of the bed, stuffing his second lunch tray down his mouth with gusto. His eyes laser focused on Lestrade’s cargo.  
“Well! Somebody’s got an appetite.” Lestrade grinned broadly at the boy. “I got you a little ‘leaving hospital’ present.” Sherlock abandoned the tray and scooted over to inspect the bags. “It’s all for you. I thought I’d get you something to wear home.” Sherlock picked through the Harrods’s bag and pulled out a pair of brand new jeans and admiringly unfurled them. He stood carefully and held them up to his waist.  
“Thanks.” He said shyly.  
“Do they look like a fit? I can take ‘em back if need be…”  
“NO!” Sherlock suddenly barked, then lowered his head, embarrassed by his outburst. “i…I mean, these will do just fine.” Lestrade’s smile never faded as he helped Sherlock empty the bags.  
“This shirt was nice I thought…Here! Look at this!” He opened the Belstaff bag and pulled out a long, black overcoat. It was a Milford style, double breasted button up with pointed collar and a neatly accented red button hole. Sherlock put the jeans down and admired it, a smile curving the corner of his mouth.  
“It’s….it’s beautiful!” He exclaimed, putting it on over his hospital gown. It swallowed him whole but he’d fill it in eventually. Lestrade gave it a once over, admiring it as Sherlock turned round to model it.  
“I do believe it was meant for you.” He declared, patting Sherlock on the shoulder. Suddenly, the boy’s eyes filled with tears and he embraced Lestrade, gripping him with spindly arms.  
“Thank you….I mean…for everything.” Sherlock said in a tiny, quavering voice. Lestrade’s heart gave a squeeze as he returned the hug, minding Sherlock’s broken little body.  
“You are most welcome.” He said softly, his eyes becoming blurry. Finally breaking the hug he stood back and smiled. “Let’s get you washed and dressed. We’re going home!”  
* * *

Lestrade’s car pulled up to the brownstone on Baker Street and stopped. He came around and opened the car door to let a clean, freshly dressed and very dapper young Sherlock to exit. The young man was all eyes as he was led to the front door which bore the number: 221b. before Lestrade could knock the door came open and a spry, wiry elderly woman with a cheerful face and a mop of red curls opened it and bade them welcome.  
“Sherlock Holmes, this is Mrs. Hudson.” Sherlock timidly held his hand out for her to take. She stepped forward and ever so gently wrapped him in a waist-high hug.  
“So nice to meet you, young man.! Oh bless but you’re thin. We’ll fix that. Come upstairs get and settled in and I’ll make you some tea.” Sherlock answered her meekly:  
“Yes, ma’am.”  
“Aren’t you the cutest thing!” She cooed and pulled Sherlock along after her. He glanced back at Lestrade who was grinning ear to ear.  
“Go ahead, son. It’s alright. She’s a friend.” Sherlock’s shoulders relaxed and he obediently submitted to being pulled upstairs.  
It was a nice sized flat with a fully equipped kitchen, a cozy fireplace and two full bedrooms. The bathroom was colonial and had a shower and a bathtub. Sherlock wandered through it, taking everything in with wide, wondering eyes. Finally he blanched and Lestrade took his elbow and made him sit down on a chair in the livingroom.  
Mrs. Hudson was worried. “Is he alright?’  
‘Yeah, he’s just still a little weak. He’s had a hard time lately. Maybe he could go have a quick lie down…”  
“No!” Sherlock suddenly cut in. “I just n..need to sit for a moment.” He was so pale the blush in his cheeks was dramatic.  
“I’ll just get you a nice cuppa darling. You rest.” She buzzed off, leaving the two men alone.  
“Well, what do you think?” Lestrade asked, his smile returning. Sherlock looked up at him, still trembling slightly.  
“How will I pay for it?”  
“You won’t. I will pay for it.” The voice, terribly familiar came from the doorway. Mycroft! He stood there, wearing an expensive looking coat with a long umbrella at his side. He was taller than Sherlock with dark, thinning hair and a rather severe face. Lestrade jumped and challenged him right away:  
“Who the hell are you?”  
“His name is Mycroft and he’s my older brother.” Sherlock answered, a trace of pique in his voice. He looked utterly disgusted to see him.  
Lestrade was nonplussed as Mycroft strode in and went straight to Sherlock, hovering over him. Sherlock didn’t flinch away so he let things play out, ready to intervene if need be.  
“Hello little brother. So I finally caught up with you.”  
“Yeah, where the hell were you when this boy was being beaten senseless.” Lestrade spat, suddenly angry.  
Mycroft’s smug smile never wavered. “I’ve been looking for him for months. So has our mother and father. He disappeared nearly five months ago. Not a word, not even a phone call.” Sherlock’s shoulders hunched over and his head lowered, as though he expected a scolding. “Although I have an amazing array of detection equipment and manpower at my disposal it becomes almost impossible to locate someone if they scurry into the shadows. Where did you find him?”  
“He was in an alley behind Charring Cross Station nearly beaten to death. He’s been in hospital.”  
“What are his injuries?”  
Lestrade looked to Sherlock for permission. The boy nodded wordlessly. “He was a fractured left forearm, two broken ribs, he was whipped damn near to death on his back and backside and he’s got malnutrition.”  
Mycroft’s face twitched and his brows knit. “Sherlock…” He said softly, putting his hand under the boy’s chin and lifting it up to see his sad little face. “How did this happen? We were so worried. Oh you poor boy!” He moved forward and knelt beside his little brother, hugging him gently. Sherlock flinched and moaned in pain. Lestrade looked on, wary but glad that Mycroft wasn’t angrily scolding him. “Are there any medications?” He asked Lestrade.  
“Just some pain meds and vitamins. The doc said he has to drink those little protein shakes for a few weeks. He needs a bandage changed on his bottom…”  
“Hoo-hoo!” Mrs Hudson pecked on the door with a tea tray. “Oh my. I should have brought a few extra cups.”  
“It’s alright Mrs. Hudson.” Sherlock broke in. “He’s not staying.”  
Mycroft stood again and turned to Lestrade. ‘He mustn’t be left alone. I want a guard on this flat twenty-four seven.” Lestrade squirmed under the demand. “My brother will need a full time carer…”  
“Oh, excuse me dear, but…”  
“Not now, Mrs. Hudson.” Lestrade broke in impatiently.  
“I will spare no expense in hiring someone…”  
“I don’t think that’s necessary…”  
Meanwhile, Sherlock was moving toward Mrs. Hudson, who was standing at the arm of the chair. He slowly leaned his head into her side and she absently stroked his hair with her hand as she waited for an opening. Lestrade glanced over and stopped talking as a smile bloomed on his tanned face. Mycroft followed suit. Mrs. Hudson had sat down on the arm of the chair and was holding the nervous young  
man, stroking his hair. He had one arm around her waist and seemed content to stay that way.  
“It seems we’ve found the carer.” Mycroft interjected, smiling softly. Lestrade beamed and Mrs. Hudson had eyes only for the boy who held her there. She was whispering comforting words and stroking his head gently.  
“You young men can leave now. Our young friend is going to have a nice lie down while I make his supper. You can come and visit again tomorrow.”  
“Please call me if I can be of help.” Mycroft held a card out to her.  
Lestrade went to Sherlock’s side. “Okay, Son?”  
“Yes.” Sherlock mumbled dreamily, a slight smile on his lips. The two men left quietly, closing the door behind them. Sherlock Holmes was home at last and in good hands.


End file.
